


Opening Day

by fredesrojo



Series: Natural History [3]
Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, MacKenzie McHale: Secret Baseball Expert, newsbbs AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 05:30:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2217513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fredesrojo/pseuds/fredesrojo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will and Maggie come to see Jim's baseball game. </p>
<p>Mac is more knowledgeable about baseball than she lets on.</p>
<p>Maggie likes selfies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Opening Day

**Author's Note:**

> Third in the Natural History series, sequel to [Carbon Dating](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1612940) and [Field Study](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1394410).
> 
> ~~Still Emily's fault, despite what she protests.~~

“Mac!”

Mac glances up from a moderately interesting overview of the week’s news, squinting in the bright sunlight as her gaze catches on the little girl clambering up the bleachers. “Maggie?” 

“Hi!” Maggie flops down on the bench with a wide grin, reaching up to push the oversized cap on her head back into position. “We came to see Jimmy play!” 

“Oh. That’s...nice of you.” And then, “We?” 

“Well Daddy brought me, silly. I’m not supposed to go places by myself. It’s not safe.” Her feet swing free in the space between the benches. Maggie wriggles forward, pointing. “See? He was getting snacks.” 

From the bottom of the bleachers Will clears his throat and waves awkwardly, juggling an armful of snacks. “Uh, hi.” 

Mac blinks, watching as he climbs up to join them near the top. “...I think this is the most casual I’ve ever seen you dress,” Is what she finally settles on saying, staring a bit incredulously at the intriguing image that Will McAvoy presents in ragged cargo shorts and a care-worn University of Nebraska t-shirt--all tan limbs and blonde hair tucked under a Yankees hat. 

“We, well--Jim told Maggie that today was his first game pitching, so I thought we might come cheer him on.” He shrugs, dangling the bottle of soda in his hand enticingly. “I brought snacks…” 

“Where’s Jimmy?” 

“He’s down in the dugout.” Mac checks her watch, sighing. “We’re waiting for the ref.” 

“Umpire.” 

“What?” 

Will grins, tilting his Diet Coke towards the baseball field. “The officials in baseball are called umpires. Refs are for other sports.” 

“Daddy says you’re not very good at baseball,” Maggie interjects, leaning over Will’s lap to better look at Mac. “But we can teach you! I’m pretty good at it and Daddy’s even better.” 

“Well how can I say no to an offer like that?” 

(In truth, Mac understands more about baseball than Will or even Maggie thinks, because having a seven year old son who’s convinced that baseball is essential to the Earth’s continued existence lends itself towards picking up a lot of incidental knowledge. 

Faking it just makes the afternoon more enjoyable.) 

She waits until Maggie’s adequately distracted in sorting out her package of Skittles by color into a little paper tray, leaning in closer to Will. “It’s really nice of you to come all the way down here to see his game.” 

He shrugs, lips quirking in a shy half-smile. “Maggie mentioned it, and I thought it might be nice to see you again.” 

“Still. It’s...Jim doesn’t really have much of a father figure. Not that I’m--” Mac sighs, wincing. “Okay, that’s not really what I meant to say. But Jim will really appreciate that you came. I try, but I’m not…good at sports.” 

“I think you’re doing just fine,” Will murmurs, gaze focused on the boys warming up on the field now that the umpire has finally arrived. “This Jim’s first year pitching?” 

“Mhmm. He aged up, I think is what his coach said. He’s too old for the league below this, which is machine-pitch, but he’s also one of the youngest in this league.” 

“He’s got good form.” 

“He works hard at it. Thankfully he didn’t seem to get much of my athletic ability, or we’d have some problems.” 

“Hey, there’s Jim! Jimmy, hi!” Maggie waves furiously when Jim and his team take the field, her hat falling forward over her face again. Will laughs and corrects it, stealing a handful of her popcorn while her eyes are covered and then absolutely failing at an innocent look when Maggie turns on him a moment later. 

“You could have just _asked_ , Daddy.” 

“Eh, my way’s bette--Hey!” He yelps, dropping half of the handful against his shirt when Mac elbows his side. 

She and Maggie burst into laughter at the wounded look Will gives them, popcorn littered down the front of his shirt and shoulders slumped dejectedly. “You shouldn’t steal others’ food, _Will_.” 

He pouts. “I just wanted a little bit…” 

Maggie looks about five seconds from caving to Will’s impressive pout when her attention snaps back to the field. “Oh oh, look, Jimmy’s gonna pitch!” 

(She’s not going to laugh, absolutely not.) 

“You could look less amused, you know,” Will mutters under his breath, swiping popcorn from his shirt. “It’s your fault the stuff is all over me.” 

“Shouldn’t have stolen from her.” 

“You just take her side because she’s adorable.” 

“Oh, I don’t know, you’re pretty cute yourself, Mr. McAvoy.” 

“Cute? Pah.” He folds his arms, leaning back against the bleachers behind them. “I’m not cute.” 

“I think you’re kinda cute, Daddy,” Maggie pops up in between them, smiling innocently. “Are you guys gonna keep talkin’ or are we gonna watch Jimmy play?” 

“I sense a career in journalism for this little one,” Mac mumbles out of the side of her mouth as they obediently face the field. “Really presses the hard line subjects.” 

Will chuckles under his breath, dividing his focus between keeping Maggie from spilling her soda and watching Jim’s team set up on the field. “Charlie’s already talking about keeping a legacy chair for her on _News Night_.” 

“Who says she’ll be an anchor?” 

“You didn’t see her editorial broadcast on Sesame Street at age three,” He mutters, leaning close enough that his voice doesn’t carry to the little blonde between them. “She didn’t know the cameras weren’t recording, but even Charlie agreed she was good.” 

“Just for that I’m half tempted to steal her and make her a producer.” 

“She would--” Will breaks off when his phone blares loudly in his pocket, frowning down at the device. “It’s Charlie, I should take this.” 

“Go on, she’s fine.” 

They sit in companionable silence until Jim’s team gets the third and final out of the inning ( _everything goes in threes in baseball except for balls_ , Maggie explains patiently part-way through, when Mac mistakes the second out to be the end), and then Maggie scoots closer to Mac on the bench and proclaims, “We should take a selfie.”

(Well alright then.) 

“Um, might I ask why?” 

“Because you’re Daddy’s friend and you’re my friend and I like taking pictures,” Maggie says, tilting her head back at a bit of a ridiculous angle to compensate for the falling hat on her head. “Aunt Lee taught me how.” 

Mac obediently leans in and smiles, torso angled enough to lessen the height difference between them. It’s a nice picture all told, similar crinkle eyed smiles, and Maggie’s hat is pushed far enough back that her face isn’t covered--basically, they look cute. 

Will squints down at them when he returns, half suspicious, but evidently decides that whatever it is isn’t quite worth figuring out at the time. He purposefully jostles Maggie as he sits back down, ducking away from her distracted swat. “Uncle Charlie says ‘hi’.” 

“Is there a news thing?” 

“No, he wanted to talk about something else,” He winks at Mac over her head, smirking a little. “Also, the colloquial term is news alerts.” 

“Adrian calls them news things.” 

“Adrian is an imbecile.” 

Maggie clicks her tongue, frowning over at Will in a way that distinctly reminds Mac of the face he makes on camera the few times she’s watched _News Night_. “Five dollar words for idiot still aren’t nice, Daddy.” 

“Well, he’s resigning by the end of the month anyways, so…” 

“ _Daddy_ ,” Maggie’s look shifts into something distinctly reproachful, and Mac tries not to laugh at how Will McAvoy is being taken to task by a seven year old. “You promised you wouldn’t be mean to the new ones so much.” 

“Hey, if he can’t handle my shi--er, stuff, then he’s got no business in a control room,” Will protests, hands raised defensively. When Maggie’s look persists, he glances at Mac desperately. “Ask MacKenzie!” 

“He has a point. Being an Executive Producer requires a certain level of gumption,” Mac poses diplomatically when the girl twists around with a questioning look. “If he can’t handle your Dad, he’s probably not meant to be an EP anyways.” 

“See?” 

“You still don’t have to be mean,” Maggie mumbles, frowning. “Adrian was nice. He gave me Snickers bars from the vending machine.” 

“Just because he caters to your sweet tooth does not mean that his employment should continue,” Will grumbles back, stealing a handful of Skittles from her little candy tray. “Also, anyone in the newsroom would get you a Snickers bar if you so much as looked sideways at them.” 

“I can’t help that I’m adorable.” She grins serenely, poking Will in the stomach and catching most of the handful of candy when he automatically drops it. “Aunt Lee says I should exploit it. Cuteness is marketable.” 

“I regret the day I ever let her hold you,” Will moans dramatically, flopping backwards against the bench behind them with his arm cast over his eyes. “You’re going to be a tyrant when you’re older.” 

“What’s a tyrant?” 

“Your Aunt Leona.” 

Maggie evidently takes his definition as the joke it is, glancing at Mac inquiringly. “It’s a strong ruler who is usually viewed as cruel and oppressive.” Mac shrugs. “I think your father’s kidding, honey.” 

The girl considers this briefly, head tilted in another one of Will’s familiar tells. “Hm. So I just have to be nice, then.” 

“Or you could _not_ listen to Leona,” Will mutters, half lifting his arm to squint at them. (Mac’s not entirely sure where his hat disappeared to in all of the over-dramatic reactions, but she’s not about to tell him how bad his hat hair is. Besides, the cowlick is pretty cute.) 

“Oh, hey, Jim’s on deck.” He sits up ( _wow_ , she didn’t think it was possible for the cowlick to get worse, but apparently so) and casts about for his hat, pointing at the field. 

“On deck?” 

“Next batter up.” Will finally finds his hat and bops Maggie on the nose with the brim before he resettles it over his hair. 

“Oh, that means Donny is up,” Mac exclaims, sitting forward. 

“Donny?” He frowns in thought, and then, “That kid who tripped that Dantana kid on the way out of the museum?” 

“Supposedly he insulted Sloan’s outfit. Or so Jim says.” 

“Hrm.” Will winces as Don strikes out spectacularly, swinging wildly to completely miss the last pitch. “Well, they can’t all be good at everything.” 

Jim offers a consolatory high five as he and Don switch places at home plate, and it’s pretty adorable to watch his whole warm-up routine before he settles into the box. 

Will evidently thinks it’s amusing, chuckling quietly under his breath. 

“Something funny?” 

“He just…” He shrugs. “That’s Posada’s warm-up.” She stares blankly, and Will sighs, clarifying. “Jorge Posada? Catcher for the Yankees? Any of this ringing a bell?” 

“I watch _soccer_ ,” Mac finally defends, scowling at his predictably scandalized look. “Look, buster, I went to Cambridge, my parents are English, I don’t know what you expect from me.” 

“Seeing as you claim to be American, a little interest in your country would go far,” He mutters, immediately distracted as Jim swings and misses the first pitch. “He’s chopping--do they have a hitting coach?” 

“They’re _seven_ , so I would assume not.” 

“I was asking a question!” 

“It seems to be a fairly stupid question, this isn’t the major leagues!” 

“Hey!” Maggie’s voice breaks the half-argument, and they both glance back to the field. “Jimmy’s batting.” 

“She’s bossier than my mother, and I didn’t think that was possible,” Mac manages as an aside to Will, frowning when Jim misses another pitch. “He’s usually--he hits well in practice, I mean.” 

“Yeah, I don’t know where she gets it.” He shrugs, making a short sweeping motion with his arms. “He’s chopping rather than swinging.” 

“...Right.” (Because that made complete sense.) 

Will studies her for a moment and sighs. “It’s--he should be swinging down into the strike zone, but instead he’s chopping across it.” 

“So like a cricket swing.” 

“Ye--no, like a _baseball_ swing.” He frowns. “Cricket makes no sense whatsoever.” 

Mac pointedly glares to where Jim has apparently been walked by the other team’s pitcher, trotting down to the base. “I can say the exact same thing about baseball.” 

“You guys argue a lot,” Maggie pipes up, sorting through for a handful of purple Skittles. “Like Uncle Charlie and Aunt Lee.” 

“No one could argue like your Uncle Charlie and Leona,” Will grumbles, arms folded over his chest. “I’m just trying to make Mac understand baseball.” 

“Baseball would be a lot easier to understand if it made any sort of sense, which it _doesn’t_.” 

“You can’t fall back on the same excuse every time, you know.” 

“Can’t you guys just agree to disagree?” 

“No.” 

“No.” 

“You really are like Aunt Lee and Uncle Charlie.” Maggie sighs, giving them both pitying looks. (Okay, so maybe their argument is a _little_ silly. ...Not that she’ll admit it to Will. Definitely not.) 

“I think you should kiss and make up.” 

(Now there’s an idea.) 

“Magpie, that’s not how you--” Her lips silence whatever the rest of his argument was, and Will makes a muffled noise against her mouth before he relaxes into the kiss. 

(Three sort of dates and Mac still can’t get over the way Will kisses, because good God does the man know how to use his mouth.) 

“Say cheese!” 

Will jerks backward at the animated shutter sound from Maggie’s iPod, blinking when his hat falls off behind them. “Wait, what?”

Maggie checks the picture and squeals excitedly. “You guys look cute! It’s like Princess Buttercup and Westley! ...Except Mac’s not blonde. And Daddy isn’t the Dread Pirate Rogers.” 

“You can’t just--she’s not--I’m... _Maggie_ , you can’t just take a picture like that,” Will finally squawks, ears and neck flushed bright red. 

“I think it’s cute,” Mac leans in to get a better look--it’s tasteful, mostly, and somehow they managed to keep the kiss kid-friendly (although Will’s hand was suspiciously close to her ass, given the way they were both leaning in to each other). She gives Will a quelling look over Maggie’s head when he continues stuttering, and she presses an affectionate kiss to the girl’s cheek. “It’s a good picture.” 

Will finally subsides with minimal grumbling, although he acts weirdly controlled for the rest of Jim’s game. Mac ignores him and spends the time listening to Maggie chatter away, and he finally seems to get over himself as the boys line up at the plate to shake hands. 

“You, um, want to go get ice cream?” He offers, body leaned in close to her side while Maggie congratulates Jim and Don near the dugout. 

“You done acting like we were walked in on by your parents?” Mac snipes back cheerfully, waving encouragingly when Jim turns to look at them at Maggie’s direction. 

“I didn’t...yeah, ok, I could have handled that better,” Will concedes, shoulders slumping a little. “I just wasn’t expecting--I mean we’ve been on three dates and...you know.” 

“So we’ll be more circumspect about PDA in the future. Maggie’s a big girl, she’s capable of understanding what’s going on.” (Jim too, although she doesn’t tack that on because it’s clear Will is much more worried about how this appears to his daughter.) 

“No, you’re right, I’m just…” He sighs. “I’m an idiot.” 

“Not arguing with you there.” 

“She’s just…” Will gestures helplessly and shrugs again. “I don’t normally--” 

“Neither do I.” 

“Oh.” 

(That, surprisingly, seems to settle him where everything else didn’t, and Will smiles much easier and even engages Jim in a serious discussion of pitching mechanics as they walk through the ballpark to a small ice cream stand.) 

“See, you have to come from the hip, here, and your arm follows through like this,” Will demonstrates, one hand holding his dripping ice cream cone level while he pretends to pitch a ball with the other. 

Jim studies his motions intently, brushing a few stray sweat slicked hairs away from his eyes before he tries. “Like this?” 

“More from the hips. Use your whole body.” 

“Does he do this a lot?” Mac mumbles to Maggie, both of them comfortably settled on a bench watching as the boys discuss serious _manly_ things. 

“Only sometimes. He’s gotten better about it, sort of.” Maggie shrugs. “He doesn’t do it at my softball practice anymore.” She tilts her head. “His ice cream’s gonna fall.” 

“Should we tell him?” 

She watches as the blonde considers, chewing her lip. “Nah.” 

Will predictably drops both scoops of his vanilla cone on the next demonstration and is left staring forlornly at the ice cream splattered in the dirt. 

“Five second rule doesn’t work here, Daddy,” Maggie pipes up patiently, when it seems it isn’t immediately evident to Will that his ice cream is unrecoverable. 

“You can finish mine,” Jim offers after a moment’s thought, holding up his pistachio mint and peanut butter chocolate chip cone. 

(Definitely an acquired taste, although Mac supposes she can’t really talk, with her mocha swirl. 

Maggie has one scoop of cotton candy and one of cheesecake, so apparently Will’s laughingly predictable ice cream preferences didn’t carry on to his daughter.) 

“Or he could just buy a new one.” 

Will munches on the empty waffle cone reflectively, shrugs. “Seconds, anyone?” 

“Let’s not,” Mac says firmly, before Maggie and Jim can venture their own opinions. “How about dinner instead?” 

Which, of course, is how they end their afternoon in a diner a few blocks away from the ballpark, Maggie and Jim slurping ridiculously sized milkshakes through candy cane patterned straws.

Will gives her a sheepish look and a shrug when she gets back from the restroom, a helpless twist to his lips. “They asked.” 

“You really need to learn the meaning of the word ‘no’,” She mutters as she slides into the free spot in the booth (next to Will, which is either not-so-subtle machination on his part or because Maggie and Jim insisted on claiming their own side of the booth--probably both, from what she knows of Will.). She’s only slightly mollified when Will slides a chocolate milkshake in front of her place setting, a fact that Mac informs him of while she fishes the maraschino cherry out of the mound of fluffy whipped cream topping the glass. 

(She ties the stem into a knot with her tongue just because she can, and because the flash of heat that flickers in his eyes is hilarious. And kind of hot, but mostly just hilarious.) 

“Should we take this as tacit approval?” Will questions after their food arrives, nodding at Jim and Maggie, heads bent in conversation over their plates of chicken tenders. 

“Somehow I think Jim’s too young to give you a shovel talk, so yes, I think we’re okay.” Mac steals a fry and bats Will’s hands away when he attempts the same attack on her plate. 

He considers that and then steals a fry apiece from Jim and Maggie, curls a defensive arm around his plate when they inevitably retaliate. Once they’ve settled down, Will continues as if their conversation never got interrupted. “And does this count as a fourth date?” 

“Remember what I said about good wine and lack of chicken tenders on the menu?” 

“So that’s a no.” 

“Mhmm.” Mac leans close, not quite touching his ear. (It’s teasing, really, but she can’t help herself.)  “Get us reservations somewhere nice and I’ll consider letting you round the bases.” 

Will fumbles his cheeseburger and catches it just above his plate, jaw slack before he remembers to close it. “You, um…” 

They both have to reach out in the next second because one of Maggie’s more vigorous hand motions sends her milkshake spinning across the table. 

Mac smirks. 

Will glances over, sheepish. “Next time no kids, huh?”

**Author's Note:**

> ~~I'm breaking my rule about having the next two parts of this series finished before I post so you better love me for this.~~
> 
> ~~Really though comments would be **greatly** appreciated. ~~
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
